Chapter 4
Puss in boots. Jessica James looked smugly into the full-length mirror. She saw her dripping snatch as a floating wedge above the cavalier-style boots that rose above her knees.
She had done her hair up to look like two tufted cat ears. With a howling mane hefted up and ratted out with mousse.
Her tits looked like cats' eyes. The aureoles she had outlined in rouge. Smeared the nippletips with opalescent glitter.
Her pussy she had plucked with tweezers to whiskery feline frills.
Jessica threw her head back.
Snapped a riding crop at the cleft of her arse. Flailed up her spine.
Giving her that edge of pain. The tears that made it all pleasure.
Tonight, Jessica had turned off all the lights in her apartment.
But had left the blinds wide open.
She could see that guy at work in his window. Evidently oblivious to Jessica.
After all, he probably couldn't see in at her, with the lights out. But if she eased toward the window, allowed the streetlamps to play gently across her lobes and globes.
She might appear to him-if he saw her-to be a vision of his dreams.
A ghostly vixen.
A figment of his mind.
Like the vampiric lamia of ancient Greece. These night-stalkers stole into men's sleep. Robbed them of their jissom.
The Hebrew Lilith-had she been Adam's demonic first wife, his doxy mistress when he was married to Eve? Or both?
Then there was the Roman succubus-the she-fuckstress night-sucker who survived in European dreamscapes well into Christian-dominated times. These ladies of the evening would gobble gonads during sleep.
It was the succubus who fostered wet dreams, or nocturnal emissions of semen in men and boys. Condemned by the church, to sleep with one was to damn oneself in sin.
But it could not be helped.
She fucked them at her whim-not on their wish.
Quite a dish.
Such a bitch.
But they were all legends.
Jessica James was real.
Then what was keeping her so prim?
If these imaginary beings got theirs, what was preventing Jessica from getting herself fucked? Life sucked.
Jessica didn't.
But, evidently, others did.
Jessica knew she was imagining it.
But it was so real.
Two young ladies were paying a visit to the man across the way.
They looked rather like Jessica's friends from the office, Ginger May and Sylvania.
They moved like randy cats.
Thomas, as Jessica now thought of her unknown partner in fantasy across the way-Thomas Valentine, a great but silent lover-pawed them as he kissed his guests hello.
The two women sat awfully close next to Thomas at his table in front of the window.
They drank from cups.
Coffee, tea-or something stiffer?
Their hands were out of sight.
Probably jacking him off.
Getting their clutches on him already.
"Who wants a suck?" Jessica thought she heard Thomas Valentine moan out into the night air.
"I do," Jessica mouthed silently.
She took the riding crop to her quim.
Delved it in.
She saw the two girls go down on Thomas.
One blew his prick.
The other gnawed at his gonads.
Took one ball in her teeth.
While the other licked his joystick.
"This cock goes down like clean country water, my lovely love."
"The balls are like baby doves-peepers, my dear. So elegantly feathered and fluffed. They love to be hugged."
Jessica saw her bring the ballocks to her mug. Drag them down her throat. Dredge them with spit. Rub them into her clit.
The other woman of no mercy had his cock by the thick throat.
She strangled it as it dangled. Crushing its neck in her womanish fist. And Jessica shimmied off into oblivion. Her cunt steamed. Pussyjuice streamed. Her eyes beamed.
The riding crop her asshole reamed.
She witnessed the women feeding upon the man.
Half-crazed at the thought.
Insane at the sight.
Jessica scratched her cuntfur.
Took hold of her clit.
Saw the two suckering mouths going at him. Taking her lover, Thomas Valentine. Now cocksucking and ballbiting. Now rimming his bum. Reaming him rigid. Stroking dong. Bobbling balls. He came off in a twist.
Rictus of pain on his face as he flipped like a fish. Jissom jumping into their lips.
They wiped their fangs with the backs of their hands.
Ran their tongues across their teeth. As Jessica herself was doing. Tasting the ammonia-scented musky sweat. Licking it from his balls.
Eating it from the space between the rear of his ballocks bag and his raised pucker.
Now his prick was again aroused.
Waving over their chewing maws like a flagstaff. Whopping their faces as they chomped.
The twanger twitched.
Jessica felt it hit her where she itched.
She brought the riding crop down upon herself again and again.
Her flesh raged.
She wanted more.
"More fuck!"
She bit her lips.
No sense in giving those two bitches any tips. Why did they not strip?
Jessica saw one grinning lance his nuts lazily with her fingernails.
She thereupon trailed her finger from his hung nougats to his buns.
The other waxed up her fingers with her saliva.
Wanting to frig inside him.
She pumped in with her thumb.
His crinkle flared.
His teeth bared.
The two women together stared. His prick jumped like a hooked marlin. They held it as their darling. Jointly, they moved their faces from his waist. Each one suckered a male nipple. Turned it in her teeth.
And Jessica could taste the rutsweat. Why were they not naked yet? Perhaps they knew more about Thomas than Jessica did. She watched them work. Cock jerked.
Armpits were covered with the feasting women's drool. Their jowls munched muscle.
Their clothed hineys bustled.
He stroked them through their clothes.
Slowly, together, the two women rose.
They pulsed their hips at his face.
Backed off and opened their legs.
Puling pusslips smacked open.
Red-lined vulva leered. Clitspasmed so loud Jessica could hear.
The man took hold of his twanger.
Then he lay back.
Calmly watched the two women strip. He jerked at his wanger. Lifted his balls. Sighed.
And witnessed their degradation. Of him.
Their arms wafted out.
Trailing the thin material of their clothing like batwings.
They covered his face with lace and see-through silk draperies. They opened up their fronts. Their hips swayed forth and revealed their cunts.
They shot their quims at his nose.
He snorted the heady juices up each nostril. Buried his dentition into their deltas.
Sucked their silt.
Hammered his thumbs at their clits. While alternately chewing their slits. One woman brushed her twatfur up his face. Muffling his ear.
The other hooked her hiney onto his hand. Asshole snapped onto his fingers.
Slid over his thumb.
Gripped his arm at the wrist.
She writhed in fistfuck of her fanny as her tongue lashed the air.
Her sister-in-fuck shoved her muck about his hair. Who, what where? Thomas Valentine did not seem to care. He jabbed and uppercut the one in the rear. Speared the other's peach with his stubbly beard.
The women's minds blazed. Their bodies seared. They whinnied in orgasmics.
The one wailer convulsed on his arm. Lining his wrist with her smarm.
The other wet dreamwoman fucked at his face. Displacing his chin with her vertical grin.
She wafted up in the air.
His teeth clattering on her pubic hair.
The two shaken women would have him again.
Went at him again.
Jessica could smell the rut rushing through their brains.
She saw them as they shook their tails. Threw their wet hair back like manes. Tossed their tits out into his grip. He throbbed their nipples. Turned their knobs.
The gauze-like clothing flew from the women's limbs. They looked like surreal figures.
Dancing in the moonlight.
The arc of the streetlamps.
Two vamps asuck on their very own living Valentine.
Women who were wonderful. Mysterious.
Known but unknowable.
Twin fuckstresses of the night.
Jessica felt them both well up within her.
She always wanted two mouths, two asses, two cunts. All the better to fuck and suck you with, Little Red Riding Hood.
Thomas was a wolf in wolfs clothing. No jive about that.
He watched the women strip themselves down, and Jessica imagined how they must feel.
If they were eminences of her imagination, they were the two Jessicas.
The one within her body.
And the one without a body.
There was something Jessica recalled about that construct. It was from-of all places-a class she had taken in college about Gothic literature of the nineteenth century.
These were sources therein for a whole rasher of later horror movies and psycholiterary excursions. The German Expressionist film The Cabinet of Doctor Cahgari was an early cinematic example. There was a Jewish version of Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley's Frankensteinian monster-the Golem from the ghetto of Prague. And turning into a werewolf or vampire, of course, as well as the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde characters-these were all redoublements of the self.
In these tales, one self was arguably good, even noble. The other was perhaps, therefore, not so good.
Which one was which, according to Jessica, was according to one's own ultimate desires. And the judgment thereto applied.
There was the chilling doppelganger-the shadowy double-walker of German romantic legend who stalked its own human form.
But Jessica saw her other self as a lickerish, coaxing doppelfokker-her fuckstress persona: The phantom fuckling Jessica had created of her own fantasies.
Unlike the eery tales of E.T.A. Hoffman and Heinrich Heine, or the music of Franz Schubert, where the doppelganger prefigured death, Jessica's doppelfokker, her fuckstress self, ordained the imminent reign of orgasm.
Jessica grinned at her literary conceit. Dreary it had been in the classroom. But it came in handy between the sheets.
Jessica came in her hand in sheets of cuntcome.
Grappling with her meat.
The womancome clotted out like fresh milk curds. She sniffed it in her nose. Ate it from her fist.
As Jessica fed upon herself, she felt the other Jessica grow strong.
She attained greater power within the sliming Jessica. Giving the girl new courage.
New soul.
New identity.
Jessica wondered how it would be said-intellectually. What did it feel like?
Jessica sensed the transition within herself as akin to those portrayed in poetic artsy ramblings. If she were to recite it, she would say:
"Jessica goes out to play. Plays with herself that fateful day. The fuckstress stalks her. Mocks her. Jessica is challenged to "act. To submit and to join. Now is the moment of decision. Jessica submits. Her disembodied doppelfokker assumes her body. Lifts her to another dimension. That of fuck and suck and fuck some more."
Jessica smacked her lips.
Licking her own muck.
She tried remove the riding crop from her quim, but it was stuck.
She heaved her hips.
Began to buck.
Jessica fucked Jessica, who fucked herself.
Those fools across the way were now acting on their own. Out of Jessica's control.
Thomas Valentine had them both naked on their knees. His wanger sprayed glittering golden strands onto their hair. Watered down their faces with a piss glaze.
Jessica shoved her fingers into herself. Her own piss spumed forth. She watered her own groves. Peed her legs down to her toes. Jacked her hips high. Piss rolled past her boobs. She dragged her piss-dripping hair across her face.
Blind in self-fuck.
Moonstruck.
Pissdrunk.
Jessica stroked herself through the haze. Nothing fazed her. Nothing would dare.
The two women over there couldn't care. And who else would?
Thomas Valentine pissed them down. Drenched them from stem to stern.
He bent over each of them. Fucked on their piss-soaked bods. Sliding dick up their cunts. Bothering their bottoms.
Then Jessica broke into antic laughter as he beat them with bundles of rods. Held flames to their nipples.
The two women creamed.
Screamed as he reamed them with the wooden rods. In their backsides.
Stuck in their cunts.
They rolled on the floor before him.
Mouths drawn back in gleeful spasms that barely resembled smiles.
Thomas flailed their sweat-streaked bods with his rods. Broke them in bareback.
Jessica felt her body fly through the air.
Among them-in the apartment-she could see herself there.
On top of the man.
Among the women.
She smelled their ooze.
Ate them.
Tasted them.
Took hold of his twanger in her teeth and tasted the women there, too.
The dank fur of his ballocks wiped Jessica's chin as she took the dick deep within.
The thrust of his honker broke her neck. Jessica spasmed her thighs.
Blinked her eyes.
Croaked as she choked down come.
The pecker was now in her bum.
Her arse was rumproast on a spit. Prick spearing her from asshole to clit.
While he rutted her from behind he crinkled her tits. Bit her spine.
Sending her acrawl in slime.
Of course Jessica's two revenant rivals were at first red-eyed with depraved jealousy. Jessica smiled with new self-assuredness. The corruptness of the other women's desires were only too-well known. Her own were hidden in her anonymity.
As Jessica fucked Thomas, they brushed her hair with their furry bushes.
Of course they gave her tresses the once-over with their scented urine.
A sisterly favor.
They had noshed upon artichokes, asparagus and broccoli for brunch. Drunk down chamomile teas. Sucked saffron-colored sweetmeats.
Their piss would bleach the daunting Jessica's hair to a gilt-blonde.
Her cunthair would glow like a golden heart, dripping silvery, pearly cream.
Yes, they loved her. In a feminine, womanly fashion. Not like a couple of bulldykes.
When she had drunk their piss. Anointed herself with their oils.
After they had kissed.
They loved Jessica for loving their lover.
Fine for a fantasy.
Not likely in flesh.
Jessica blanked out into the black-and-whiteness of orgasmic delirium.
Seconds, minutes, hours-daze. Did she doze? She supposed.
Jessica emerged from her daze. Through the haze, she saw that Thomas was now alone.
He was standing before his opened window. Clearly naked.
Wicked dong spearing out from beneath his belly.
Ballocks blowing in the night breeze.
Jessica's sweat began to freeze.
Was he staring at her puss in boots?
Her whacked-off, jacked-off fur, still stiff with her drying piss and sweat and rutjuices.
Spread wide open for him.
Dripping with her own come.
Purring pusslips.
Mewing asshole.
Waiting for the tomcat tail.
"Scat, cat," she murmured. "Out of here. Unless you want to fuck."
She closed her eyes to the reality.
And Jessica James drifted-alone, she thought, for a moment, in her dreams.
Her cunt creamed. Her eyes juddered open. "Aiiiii!"
She screamed aloud. Screamed and screamed again. "Waiiiii! Eee-augh!" She saw Thomas Valentine had vanished from her sight.
In a panic, she draped her bare boobs out her window. Looked down to street level. Saw her peeping torn lover stride easily from his apartment building down the street.
She threw on a thick brocade kimono over her high boots.
Walked out the door to her digs.
Dug in her heels.
Saw his ass disappear around a corner ja. block ahead.
Jessica speared her heels into the cement. She was the huntress. She gave chase.